


The three times she dreamt of him. And the one time she didn't.

by kissmelikeapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmelikeapirate/pseuds/kissmelikeapirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants him. Her body craves him. He haunts her in her dreams. Taunts her. Teases her. Takes her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The three times she dreamt of him. And the one time she didn't.

 

* * *

**Chapter 1: The first time**

* * *

Face pushed into the bed, ass in the air, his hand pressed into the center of her back, anchoring her hips as she tried to pivot to meet his relentless thrusts. Her skin was slick with a layer of sweat; her arousal seeping from her core and coating their centers, causing their bodies to slip and slide against each other in a delicious rhythm that made her skin hum.

Fingers balled into the dampened sheets, she bit down on her lip as he thrust into her so deeply it hurt. It burned and pinched and made her raise up her chin and gasp for breath. But still she pushed up into him, grinding herself against his cock, devouring him hungrily: wanting more.

The rough linen sheets scraped against her skin; her nipples burned at the contact and her knees became red raw from the friction. She ached. Ached for the want and ached from feeling used. Thoroughly, utterly used. But still she wanted more.

"More,' she cried desperately as she swung her head to one side, feeling his hand dig into her hip roughly, his nails branding her. She knew they'd leave a dark bruise. A trophy if you will. And it made her smile wickedly.

Wantonly she bucked and rippled her body into his, rocking herself towards oblivion - her wetness was practically dripping down her thighs. She was so turned on she thought for a moment she should be embarrassed. But her body purred and ached and told her not to care. More. She still wanted more.

Her desperate pants and moans echoed around the small room. Again and again he thrust into her - each time varying his angle and depth just a little, just enough to keep her guessing, keep her teetering on the brink.

"Please…" she begged, one hand digging into her hair as her frustration began to consume her. More. More.

She felt a cool pinch at her side and suddenly she was on her back. It was dark, the room distinguished only by shadows and reflections.

Skin.

Skin on skin.

She felt his body envelop hers, his legs nudging her apart. Instinctively she wrapped her ankles around his hips - digging her heels into his back, drawing him in, pulling him back towards her, until…

Yes.

The burn, the stretch, the feeling of being so filled that her eyes rolled back as she groaned in pleasure and ground her hips into the bed, letting him twist inside her so she could feel every rock hard inch.

Her hands reached out and dug into his firm, hair covered chest. Running her fingers over him she revelled in the extra sensation - soft yet masculine, until she moved her grip to his shoulders, pushing him against her chest, rubbing her breasts against him as they moved in tandem.

He began to grunt in a guttural, primal way that shook her to her core, turning her on even more.

She was the cause of this man's utter annihilation - his loss of control, his total consummation by lust…

And she screamed as he roughly grabbed her breast, gripping it firmly with his hand as his mouth devoured her hard nipple; sucking and tugging at it until tears came to her eyes and she felt the grazing of teeth agains soft skin.

Angrily, she swung her hand to the back of his head, grabbing a chunk of hair as she forced his mouth to hers - wanting him to hurt, wanting him to ache like she did.

Sloppily they kissed; a wet mess of lips and tongues and muttered curses that turned into a battle of wills - each egging the other on: teasing, taunting, testing…

Then the brink came. No warning. But then she was there.

Pulsing inside of her, the heat, burn and build between them reached that tipping point of no return before exploding in a vision of stars and cool sweat rippling over her skin, her body twitching and fluttering around him as he continued to thrust - drawing her out whilst he whispered her name again and again, before ending in a strangled cry of his own.

Replete, she lay; his body heaped on hers, the scruff of his chin rubbing against the sensitive skin of her chest until she shifted a little and he raised his eyes to meet hers.

Sparkling blue eyes, dark and wanton - matched with a wide toothed smile that made her stomach flip: Hook.

* * *

The first time Emma dreamed of him, she shrugged it off and made excuses.

It had been a long time.

He was attractive (she admitted that) and there was a shortage of guys she could crush on in Storybrooke.

'Cos it was just a crush, right?

So it was only natural that she would, you know…

But her cheeks reddened at the memory of her dream. Never had she felt so… Damn hot and sexy and …  _horny._

So the next time she saw him, she had clammed up. Avoiding him at the meeting to discuss the rebuilding of the town. Dipping her eyes from his knowing glances. Ignoring the heat between her thighs when she got close enough to smell his scent.

Keeping far enough away to be safe. Because it was just a dream and she had other things to think about…

* * *

**Chapter 2: It happened again**

* * *

The Rabbit Hole was busy. With a tumbler of whiskey in her hand she ignored the hubbub and sank deep mouthfuls of the liquid, enjoying the burn as it trickled down her throat.

"It's not very ladylike to drink alone."

The voice was behind her; silky and dulcet she felt her spine tingle.

A hand appeared at her right, signaling the bartender. Another glass appeared; this time rum was the drink of choice. Then he sat on the stool next to her. So close their thighs touched and she felt her chest burn.

"I never said I was a lady," she quipped, meeting his eye over the glass, slowly lowering her lids as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip - well aware he was examining her every move.

The wooden feet of his stool scraped angrily along the tiled floor of the bar as he moved closer, turning and widening his stance so she was almost sitting between his legs.

"Is that so?" he asked, running his finger over the rim of his glass, his gaze dipping to the deep v of her shirt that showed a hint of white lace and a curve of soft breast.

Her stomach began to ripple at his game. Leaning forward, she raised her lips to his ear, "Yeah," she whispered before quickly whipping away and returning to her drink.

Then his face was near hers again, his breath on her neck. "I have quite the experience with those who are 'not ladies'," he drawled, his richly toned voice making her quiver as it reached her center. In response she let out a small laugh and tilted her head to the left, giving him greater access to her neck and a better view of her chest which she puffed out a little - enjoying his small intake of breath, satisfied that he could see right down her shirt now.

He took that as permission and pressed even closer. She felt his hook slip around her waist, digging into the soft leather of the jacket she wore. "I know how to treat them. How they like to be…" his voice trailed off, dropping lower until his lips were so close to her ear she could feel the heat of his breathing, " _Fucked._ "

She felt her body drop, something sagging heavily at his words - at his gall to talk to her like that in a packed bar. To be so crude, so coarse… Yet she felt a twinge inside, an awakening if you will. His rough manner sparking a desire inside her that she tried to push away, but it kept growing like a wild fire - out of control.

"And how is that?" she panted gently, tightly gripping her glass as she gestured for a refill.

Glancing to her right, she caught his eye. He seemed to be mentally unwrapping her, raking up and down her body, making her skin chill.

"First, I make them strip for me." His hand reached up and fingered the collar of her shirt. She swallowed deeply as his hand briefly scraped her skin. "I don't waste time on ceremony with a common whore." The word  _whore_ alternatively stung and excited her - she shouldn't find this a turn on. It was wrong to be attracted to a man who referred to her in such a way.

But the excitement in her belly overrode any other thoughts.

"Then I like to see her skills, a woman on her knees has always been a favorite of mine," his voice dripped with raw sexuality and she felt her legs began to tremble as she imagined herself on her knees in his cabin… "I like her to take my cock in her mouth like she loves it - like she wants it. I grab her hair and she will take me deep inside her throat until she begs me to fuck her."

The rest of the world seemed to melt away. His words were sinking into her skin, her mind - her being. She was that woman - the one who wanted the pirate, the one who desired his domination - if only for a night. The one whose center throbbed and ached more with every word.

"I never beg," she whispered, rolling her head closer to his as she took another drink, letting his voice wash over her - taking her away with him.

"Oh?" he asked lightly, "I could make you beg. I could make your scream and cry damnation - make you beg me to take you with a flick of my fingers and my tongue on your cunt."

She felt the color drain from her as he spoke, her body was shivering now. The liquor in her tumbler shook as she brought it to her mouth. Trying to seem unaffected. Trying to show him she didn't really care…

"And then?" she asked innocently, all the while feeling the burn between her thighs grow.

"And then, my dear, this pirate takes what he wants. Then I bury my cock inside you, and you take my length and you will enjoy every last inch," he spoke slowly emphasising every last word. Unconsciously her eyes flashed to his groin. She could see the growing outline of his cock through the leather of his pants. He wasn't lying. She felt herself dampen at the thought of him inside her - his length stretching and filling her. "I'll fuck you again and again, tease you, make you beg for mercy…" He was again right at her ear and now her breath was coming in raspy gasps, "Because that's what pirates do."

"Huh," she whispered, at a loss how else to reply, feeling the room spin around her as the pent up tension inside her desperately sought release.

"And then, my dear, I'd make you come harder, stronger and longer than you have ever experienced in your short life. You'll come so hard you'll be screaming my name for the whole town to hear."

She panted a little at the thought; her body so turned on she thought she might burst. Scared to move, scared to speak lest she give herself away.

"But, Swan," he stood and downed his drink, pulling his coat further around his to disguise his obvious arousal, "Despite your protestations, I think you actually are a lady. So I don't think it will ever come to that."

And he was against her ear again, whispering once more, "Will it?" he teased.

Then he was gone and she was wound up tight like a spring. Throwing down a twenty, she hurried from the bar - desperate to find her own release…

* * *

That dream had awoken her with a start. Her core hot, her thighs damp. How could a dream do that?

It was only a dream…

Yet her fingers began to walk down her body, meeting her wetness with throbbing pleasure - pushing into herself and rubbing her nub as she brought herself to completion.

Thinking about someone who she shouldn't be thinking about.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Third times a charm**

* * *

It was the third time when she really started to worry.

* * *

The lapping waves gently rocked the boat in a soft, lulling motion as she lay back on the bed.

His roughened hand moved slowly up her leg, gently cherishing every last inch as his lips followed the movement with feather-like kisses, small tongue swipes and teasing bites. She could feel the scrape of his scruff where his chin met her skin and his mussed up hair tickled as he moved along her body. She groaned softly, arching into his caress; soaking up every touch and every motion.

As he reached her center she felt the cool of his metal hook sliding up her abdomen, resting just below her breasts, making her shiver slightly, whilst his tongue began to burrow into her - slipping between her folds, slowly circling her nub as his hand stretched her thighs further apart. Delicious waves of pleasure began to flood her body, rippling out from his touch, extending to her fingertips and making her toes curl.

When a finger slipped inside her, slowly twisting and curving, she instinctively brought up her knees - pressing her feet harder into the narrow mattress as she began to pant. Such a simple action fuelling the thirst of passion and want inside of her.

"Emma…"

His voice hummed against her causing to shudder: her crescendo hitting her harder and quicker than she expected - quivering around him as he layered soft kisses across her stomach.

Then his face was suddenly there - in front of hers. The dim light casting shadows over the sharp line of his jaw and his pale blue eyes gazing at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Reaching up, she raked her fingers into his thick hair; bringing her mouth to his, all the time staring deep into his eyes - seeing his soul.

So honest. So true. She saw the man inside the pirate who hid behind innuendo and sass. The man who would do anything for her.

Soft lips enveloped hers. His moved to cradle her head while he pressed his body flush with hers. The feel of his soft skin and lean muscles causing her to instinctively wrap her arms and legs around him, pulling him tighter into an almost suffocating embrace.

Expertly his mouth worked against her own, brushing her lips apart until his tongue gained access and explored her mouth with the experience of centuries.

She could feel his hardness pressing into her hip - thick and firm; she rolled her hips against it, enjoying his soft moans. She loved how he responded to her. How with a simple movement he was putty in her hands.

The heat was beginning to build inside her - she wanted him, craved him. She dug her nails into his back and hooked her feet around his ass, shifting her hips so she could feel his tip pressing gently against her entrance. Rocking against him, she thought she might explode if she didn't feel him inside her soon.

He must have sensed her frustration. Pulling back from their kiss, he moved his hand to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb across it in such a tender way her heart jumped a little. He quickly ran his tongue over his lips. Watching her, he began to push inside - so achingly slowly she could feel every movement, every part of him.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, trying to savour the sensation.

"Open your eyes love," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, "I want to see you."

And she did as he asked. Eyes locked together as their bodies merged.

It was so intimate. Too intimate. Too much…

But she didn't look away. Instead she drunk in the love and affection in his eyes. The little curve of his lips as he looked at her. The way he swallowed deeply when he could move no further.

For a second they paused, transfixed by one another. Joined both body and soul. In an instant nothing else and none else mattered. Just a reluctant princess and a pirate alone in his cabin.

"I love you," he murmured into her neck as he started to move.

At first soft and tender - loving strokes, soothing words, gentle touches.

Then it was like a switch had been flicked. She wanted more. She wanted to show him how she felt.

She built up the rhythm, pressing against him, quicker, faster, harder. Enjoying the burn between her thighs as he worked harder, pumping his hips into her in an almost punishingly frantic pace.

Suddenly she was lost, floating free from her body, dancing on a precipice as he took her to a point she had not thought possible. Her vision went black and all she could do was feel and hear. His soft panting an grunts. His sweat damp skin as it slid against hers. The growing bundle of tension in her belly threatening to break her at any moment.

How did he do this? She didn't understand - couldn't…

Finally he began to growl, a guttural sound that sank through her body, reaching her very core; pushing her over that brink until she drowned in her own climax.

And as the haze lifted, it all became clear.

_She loved him._

* * *

Bolt upright, she sat up in bed, chest heaving as the finally remnants of sleep left her.

The memory and sensation of her dream both still apparent, lingering as though it were a reality.

_No,_ she told herself,  _it was only a dream. You don't. You can't…_

But the thing that scared her most was that she knew she could.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Hiding**

* * *

So avoidance turned into down right running away. Any hint he could arrive at Granny's or the Rabbit Hole sent her scurrying off on some urgent errand. She made sure she didn't spend too long at the station - knowing he could easily find her there. And definitely, absolutely she kept a wide berth of the docks.

But the one place she could not stay away from was home.

It was Sunday. The sun was setting, obscured as it was by the thick grey clouds of a winter storm approaching. It had been three days since her last dream of him. In fact, in those three days she had barely slept, never mind dreamt of anything else. The tiredness was beginning to show in her red rimmed eyes.

The first heavy drops of rain began to attack the windows of the apartment, bursting on impact and blurring the hazy light from outside; darkening the space. Emma watched the water as it made lazy trails down the small square panes - envying its freedom and fluidity. Alone in the apartment she felt restless and trapped - Henry was with Regina and her parents had gone out for dinner. The large space felt small and claustrophobic, left as she was with her thoughts. More accurately, her fears.

The knock at the door had startled her; rousing her from her thoughts. She placed the lukewarm mug of coffee she had been drinking down and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. There was a chill in the air which prickled her skin and made her shiver slightly.

"Hook-" she cried in surprise as she opened the door. His leather clad figure, hair damp from the rain, stood tall in the hallway, his thumb hooked in his belt, as it often was. At first his face looked a little shocked - it was over a week since they had been face to face, after all. But then a small smile rose across his lips. She felt something warm trickle down her spine.

"Emma, I was looking for Dave-"

Emma shuffled a little awkwardly on her feet and crossed her arms around her chest, "Out, sorry. I can give him a message."

Her tone was impersonal, flat. Not one used for someone with whom you were on such familiar terms. It told him  _leave me. Go._

"No, that won't be necessary." She was sure she saw a hint of pain in his eyes as he made to leave, before he stopped. Moving his arm, he began to rub his finger and thumb together before licking his lips quickly. "Actually Emma, may I speak with you?"

"Um," she hesitated, he had already been close to her for too long. Images from her dreams were starting to pepper her vision, making her feel hot in spite of the chill. "Is it important?"

"Quite," he added, with a raise of his eyebrows.

Pulling the door wider, she gestured for him to enter the apartment. She had left the TV on with the sound down low. The light from the images flickered across the empty room as the rain continued to lash down.

"Some storm, eh?" she muttered as she emptied out her now cold coffee. She lifted the cup up in a gesture to ask if he would like one. He shook his head.

"This is nothing but a mere squall, Love," he smiled, taking an awkward seat at the table as she refilled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

"So," she began as she returned to him, interlacing her hands and resting them on the table in front of her, directly across from where he sat. "How can I help?"

His eyes flashed down as he seemed to think - considering her question, before he looked up again, "What is wrong, Emma?"

"Wrong?" she asked with a puzzled expression.

"Yes. Wrong. For more than a week now you have been avoiding my company. I have noticed the way you walk away if I am near, how you haven't been to Granny's for lunch for at least a week, you are never at the dock anymore-"

"Are you spying on me?" she gasped, her heart beginning to pound as she realized he was calling her on her behavior. Clearly her avoidance had been more than obvious.

Pushing himself up with his hooked hand he slowly made his way around the table until he was just a couple of feet away. "Just observant," he replied, his eyes searching her face.

She began to shake her head, trying to clear away the images invading it and the permeation of her senses by his scent - salty, musky and masculine. "No, no," she protested, "I've just been busy and with Henry and the station…" Her voice trailed off as she realized her protestations sounded somewhat ridiculous the moment she spoke them. Edging a little closer, he placed his hand on the table as she stood and straightened herself up.

"I am starting to believe there may be a little more to it," he said in his silky, smooth drawl.

Emma chewed on her tongue as she looked at him, looking at her with such intensity it almost hurt. She may be the human lie detector but Killian Jones saw through her like she was a pane of glass. Lying seemed pointless.

"Fine," she muttered, glancing to her right, "I feel a little uncomfortable around you right now."

"Uncomfortable?" His voice rose at the end of the word; he seemed slightly amused. "Why on Earth would that be?"

She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. His closeness was making her fidgety. Anything she could do to take her mind of his face and his eyes and the leather and the hair on his chest…

"You distract me."

"Oh, do I?" he whispered.

Somehow he was so close now she could feel his breath on her skin.

"Oh please," she retorted, flipping her head back over her shoulder in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension. Then his hand was on hers - warm and large and surprisingly soft. His fingers tightened and she could feel the warmed metal of his rings pressing into her skin.

"Why are you scared of me, Emma?"

_Damn him. Damn that man._

"I'm not…"

His nose was now tip to tip with hers, foreheads almost touching. She should push him away, ask him to go…

"Then why are you trembling?"

She was. She hadn't noticed. Her breath came in achy waves, her hand shaking beneath his.

"Because…" she began.

"Yes?" he muttered, leaning in closer. So close, his lips were almost upon hers. Her core felt hot and her body was frozen, paralyzed almost. She was scared of what she would do if she let herself go.

"Because - because I don't trust you."

His fingers were now trailing up her arm, farcing over the exposed skin of her wrist, leaving a tingling ice trail in their wake.

"Hmm," he groaned. Her stomach flipped at this guttural sound that came from deep within him. Exactly as she imagined.

And he smelt so damn good. If she tilted her head, she could…

But he did it first. With a slight twist of his neck, his soft, deliciously warm lips were on hers - gently teasing her mouth, willing her lips open. It took her a second to realize what was happening and another to admit it was better than any aspect of her dream. And it was only a kiss.

Grabbing his vest, she pulled him closer, falling into his kisses as his hand moved to cup her head. Slow, sweeping, leisurely kisses, ones full of meaning and desire.

"No," she cried suddenly, pushing him away with both hands, "No."

His face looked confused, his brow furrowing and his cheeks slightly flushed. "No?" he whispered.

She didn't reply, merely looked at him. She wanted to tell him why - why she was scared. That she didn't want to let herself be vulnerable. That it hurt too much the first time and that with him she saw all the signs.

But instead she just shook her head.

He nodded slightly, running his thumb over his lips as he spoke to her. How she wanted those lips on hers again…

"Then I will take my leave. Goodnight, my lady."

And with a swish of black leather and a soft bang of the door he was gone and she was alone.

She stood rigid for a few seconds, staring at the space he had occupied. A buzzing sound began to fill her ears as her mind became blank - her chest felt hollow and empty as her limbs began to leaden, dragging her down.

This introspection was broken by the piercing whistle of the kettle. She blinked in surprise, rushing over to move the boiling pot from the stove - the steam that rose from it dampening her face and making small tendrils of her hair curl.

He was gone. He had left.

_You told him to,_ a voice inside reminded her.

She knew it was true, it was what she had wanted - right?

But if that was indeed correct, why did she feel so deflated and lost?

Her feet were moving before her mind could catch up. Out of the loft, down the stairs and out into the pouring rain that announced the impending eye of the storm. Blinking back the water that began to pour down her face she looked along the deserted street, "Hook?" she shouted, her voice swallowed up by the sound of pouring water. "Ki-Killian!"

Then she saw him. He turned his head and she could see his face, contrasting starkly with his dark hair and black leather. He paused, half facing her.

And now her heart was pounding. What was she doing? This was crazy, stupid…

Her body knew what her mind didn't want to admit yet.

And she was running; her feet chilled by the damp, cold sidewalk, her hair sticking to her face.

When she reached him she was panting, streams of rain ran down her cheeks as her hands clutched at the wet, limp cuffs of her sweater.

"What is it, Swan? You're going to catch your death in this!"

A low rumble of thunder sounded ominously in the distance. She swallowed and stepped closer.

"I didn't mean that," she said, only really understanding herself as the words were spoken. "I am scared of you," her eyes squeezed tight for a second, "I'm scared I might care for you."

The left side of his mouth curved into a smile. Emma watched as drops of water began to fall from the collar of his coat. He reached out and smoothed the hair from her face. Still smiling at her. She couldn't help but respond in kind.

It was her turn to make a move. Slowly, she arched her feet, reaching up to him, closing her eyes against the assault of the increasingly heavy rain. Their lips met, his hand dug into her hair as she swung her arms around his neck, wrapping herself around him and clinging to him, almost begging him not to leave. He shifted his hooked arm, slipping it around her waist and hoisting her legs around him until he was holding her and carrying her back to the apartment building.

Soft kisses paused as he set her down, sheltered from the rain in the eaves of the building. "Why does that scare you?" he asked as he held his hand at her waist.

She looked up, taking a breath as the words formed.  _Why was she so scared?_

"Because the last time I cared about someone like that my heart was broken," she admitted, a sudden wave of relief engulfing her.

"I'd die before I ever hurt you," he promised, his blue eyes twinkling, his voice earnest and soft.

And as cheesy as the line was, as sappy and romantic as the things he could say were, she knew it was true.

He'd never hurt her - could never hurt her. It was a strange realization with no basis in fact apart from what she felt and her knowledge of this pirate, this hero, this… man.

"I know," she admitted, narrowing her eyes a little.

The roaring of the rain became heavier, falling in icy heavy sheets and splashing up from the sidewalk to dampen her feet.

"I think we'd better get you inside," he told her, suddenly sweeping his arm around her waist and pulling her up to his chest.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Exposed**

* * *

Finally sheltered from the pounding rain, he carried her up the stairs, barely breaking his wondering gaze, before carrying her into the loft. He set her down as he closed the door. She shivered as he turned around.

"You're cold."

Emma just smiled and watched as the rainwater rolled down his coat and began to pool at his feet. The collar of his saturated shirt stuck to his chest, highlighting its rise and fall.

"You're wet," she teased.

His eyes flashed downwards and he cocked an eyebrow as he slowly slipped off his coat, laying it neatly on one of the stools around the kitchen table.

"Perhaps I could get dry and we could warm you up?" he suggested, the saucy hint to his voice laced with a hint of something she could only call nervousness.

"Good idea," she whispered, stepping closer.

Touching his leather vest, she let her fingers skim up and down the smooth leather, before she began to unhook the silver clasps one by one, pushing the garment over his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Her hands were on his chest now. She could feel his heart beating rapidly throughout the thin material; his skin hot and enticing. Emma's body began to tingle, his closeness overwhelming her as his heat radiated between them.

Wordlessly he reached down for the hem of her sweater, pulling it over her head until she stood before him in only a thin white cotton tank and grey leggings. She saw his eyes widen. The outfit was flush to her skin and showed off every curve she normally kept quite hidden. A shy, almost coy feeling overcame her. He looked at her with such awe - she felt so naked, exposed.

Her eyes flashed to the ground until he tugged at her chin, "You are so beautiful Emma. Do you know that?"

Biting her lip, she smiled. "You're not so bad yourself. For a three hundred year old pirate."

His eyes flashed closed in amusement, his hand sliding softly down her neck, making her catch her breath, until he reached her now naked shoulder.

The mood changed as bare skin touched bare skin. An image from her dreams flashed before her eyes: his mouth on her skin, his hand in her hair, the aching, throbbing in her center as he pushed inside her…

"Hook-" she began.

"Killlian," he reminded her, leaning further into her touch, taking a deep breath as though he were creating a memory of the moment.

Placing her hands on him once more, she began to play with the small buttons of his shirt, unpicking them one by one and letting her fingers dance over his chest. He groaned at the contact, eyes rolling shut as she worked her way down towards his waist, appreciating the expanse of swarthy, hair covered skin she was exposing with each button. She let her fingers trace his chest softly, picking out faint scars and the lean muscles built of a life on the sea.

The urge to pull him close was overwhelming. She could feel it - the magnetic force she had experienced before when near him, but this time it was multiplied tenfold, dragging her ever so slightly closer to him with each passing second. It was all she could do to keep her breath steady and hold herself still when all she wanted to do was collapse in his arms and let herself go.

He was so quiet. It was so unlike him, she thought. But she knew his mind was occupied by similar urges to her own. There were tell tale signs - slow breathing, the way his hand clenched slightly at his side as her fingers lingered on his shirt and the way his mouth dropped open when her warm hand met his still damp chest.

"Killian," she whispered, letting the pull take over, allowing her hands to slip over the rounded muscles of his shoulders, easing it over them as she leaned forward to place a chaste kiss just below his collar bone.

"Emma…"

His forehead dropped down to rest upon hers, fingers digging slightly into her waist as she continued her exploration. Letting her fingernails trail down his arms as she exposed them, they tingled as they moved, each inch increasing the pounding of her heart. When her right hand reached his brace, she let her fingers wander around it's leather ties, exploring where the man became 'Hook'. His skin was reddened slightly at the juncture; polished almost - roughened after years of wear.

This was real. This wasn't a dream.

Her arms circled his waist as his shirt hung from where is was still tucked into the waist of his pants. They stayed like this for a second. In a daze. Unsure where this was going. But deep down knowing what she wanted - what they both did.

Upwards she tilted her head, catching his mouth once more with her lips.

But this time, it was no soft kiss. Just pure lust and desire fueling it. Pressing up into him she lunged her body towards his, enjoying his firm warmth pressed against her. With a little jump, she hooked her legs around his waist again; he grasped her ass and lifted her tightly, gripping her waist as he kissed her.

Emma Swan had never been kissed like this before. It was so many things all at once. Tender, romantic, desperate, urgent, demanding… She felt herself spin and was sure she would have fallen had he not held her.

Suddenly he was carrying her upstairs, never separating his lips from her own. She should have wondered how he knew where her bedroom was but she was too drunk on his kisses to care. Such an expert mouth. She missed being kissed - being adored.

He laid her on her bed gently, placing his knee between her thighs as he continued to kiss her, but now letting his hand roam across her stomach, teasing the small strip of skin that appeared as she stretched upwards. His lips and tongue joined his hand, tickling her until she let out an involuntary giggle, which made him stop and catch her eye.

The heat in his look caught her laugh in her throat - bold and demanding yet passionate and caring, all wrapped up in crystal blue eyes. She moistened her lips a little as she pushed herself up on her forearms, shivering again as the chill from earlier returned (or was it the way he looked at her?).

"We need to warm you up," he mused, his hand slowly running up and down her thigh - large, warm and deliciously welcoming.

"I normally take a bath to warm up," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could consider their implication.

"I-I didn't mean-" she stuttered, curling her body away from him slightly as the nerves and insecurities that had made her keep her distance resurfaced in an instant.

Then he was suddenly crawling up to her, his hand combing into her hair and pulling her face towards his. Rubbing his soft lips against hers she inhaled his scent, her mind became a swirling cyclone of emotion. His lips pressed lightly against hers: once, twice - three times. Each more tender than the last. The trail of kisses then led across her cheek to the side of her face. Taking her earlobe in his mouth, he bit down gently, rolling it between his teeth. The feeling of his breath on her neck made her quiver and ache - a wave of rolling heat shooting down her as she felt her walls fall again.

"I think that sounds like a fine idea."

Quickly he stood, taking the few steps towards the bathroom attached to her room. Her head sunk into the soft comforter of her bed, rolling to one side and watching the muscles of his back move as he walked; taught and tight - the perfect mixture of strength and poise. She craved the chance to dig her fingers into that flesh, brand it with her nails and mouth.

The squeaking sound of the taps of her bathtub being turned on roused her from this thought.

So, he was serious, she thought. Not really knowing whether to laugh or be worried.

Captain Hook was drawing her a bath. Was half naked in her bathroom. Was quite likely to be having his way with her that evening (okay, scratch that - she was a sure thing).

The chill began to extend down her limbs, making her fingers tingle. She grabbed her robe from behind the door and followed him into the bathroom, her hand shaking a little as she turned the handle and entered. He sat crouched on the floor, his hand swirling the water that was filling the large, enamel tub that she was ever thankful for after a hard day at work. The room smelled sweet and light bubbles floated on the water.

Turning his head, he smiled at her. His damp hair was drying now and sticking up in that ridiculously sexy way it did. Damn, it killed her how he could look so good with no effort.

"You were serious," she managed to say, stepping forward and taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

"I'm always serious," he replied, leaning up into her for another kiss. As his mouth began to tease hers open, his hands moved to the knotted belt of her robe, pulling it undone.

She let him push down the robe, moving so her chest was almost pressed against his, her hands wrapped round his neck; fingers playing with the small tuft of hair at his nape. A gasp escaped her mouth when he started to kiss her neck. Such feather light and teasing kisses she almost felt she was imagining it. But as his hand crept under her shirt, she knew it was real. When his hand grasped her breast a hot moistening spread between her legs.

"Hmm," she whimpered.

Peeling away her shirt, he nudged her, gesturing for her to stand. His hook and hand then slipped down her leggings until she stood just in her underwear - his eyes looking everywhere and no where at once. A smile ghosting his lips as he ran his thumb over the gentle curve of her stomach.

"Better get in - while it's hot," he suggested. Lightly she nodded, slipping off her remaining garments and sinking into the soothing warm waters of the bath. The heat instantly pulled away the last of her chill, gently lulling her into a dream like state of weightlessness and bliss.

The water began to wash over her. He had taken a sponge and was running it across her body - down her arms, curving over her chest, working it into the crevices and joins of her limbs. Fluttering her eyes open she smiled; the cocoon of the water and warm, moist air relaxing her muscles and taking away her inhibitions.

"That's better," she muttered as he soaked the sponge again, wiping the soapy suds from her neck and shoulders, then moving down and taking her hand - washing it gently, between each finger and softly rubbing her palm. "Lovely…" she groaned, losing herself in the sensation.

There was a shuffle as he stood. The sound of his leather pants being pushed down made her look to her left where he stood naked. His erection almost full, his body bare except for his brace and hook.

Her eyes flashed to his augmentation - his hook. That from which he had derived his moniker that had tainted and followed him for so long - aye, had moulded him in fact. "Can you take that off?" she asked softly.

A flicker of doubt crossed his eyes, his jaw clenching briefly. She saw him look down at his left arm, his chest dropping.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean-"

"No," he shook his head, "It's - it's okay. It's only fair I bare myself as you have."

A small, self conscious blush rose on her cheeks.

Fascinated, she watched him untie the small buckles that held the brace in place before easing it off - twisting the leather a little to loosen it. She wondered briefly how long it had been since he had taken it off in front of another person - hell, if he ever had.

Then he was there, standing bare and exposed. Such a beautiful man, though a disconcerting sight - the way his left arm stopped just shy of his wrist. The end smooth, rounded and pale. He was so exposed, nothing to hide behind, and she felt her feelings grow in an instant for his willingness to do this for her.

Wordlessly, he stepped into the tub, settling in between her legs, crouched down so the water lapped around his waist. Silently she thanked whatever God there was for the large size of the bath - it was so old, Mary Margaret had urged her to get a more modern one many times, but she loved the luxuriousness of a decadent plunge in deep, soothing waters. And she loved the fact it comfortably accommodated two.

Sponge in hand, he started to work his way along her body again, This time starting with her feet, soaping them up, caressing her arches, placing soft little kisses on her toes that made her squirm. Achingly slow, he worked up her leg in small circles, not missing an inch as he worshipped her body.

Her back arched against the hard bottom of the tub, stretching up her leg until until her ankle was balanced delicately on his shoulder, supported by his handless arm.. Then his lips began their assault. Peppering the skin he had just cleansed. When his hand reached her center, she almost choked on a cry. Somewhere along the way he had disposed of the sponge, his fingers traced her lips and she twisted against the cold enamel, angling for him to touch her harder and deeper.

She had her wish as when his lips met the ball of her knee, he slipped one finger inside her hot core. Instantly she felt herself begin to pulse around him, drawing him further into her.

That was it for her. As he touched her so intimately, she knew she was done for. All reason and argument bled from her mind as her heart began to soar into his touch. The curving of his fingers. The heat of his lips. The feel of his skin sliding against hers with a buffer of warm water swaying between them.

She reached up and caught his neck in her right hand. He looked up - his bright blue eyes sparkling and mirroring her own expression.

"I can't wait any longer," she told him, hooking her other leg around his waist and running her heel up his back - enjoying his soft groan as she pulled him down to her.

His hand continued to work her body, slowly building up the swell inside of her - soft waves crashing and building in a steady pace. The weight of his body against hers was so satisfying - he was warm and firm, so solid and reassuring. This is real, she reminded herself.

Kissing her again, he teased her mouth, running his teeth over her lips, dueling her tongue and branding her face with his sharp two-day stubble. She allowed herself to run her hands up his back. It swayed under her, rippling like the ocean. Holding on tightly, she dug in her nails - Killian flinched as she dragged them tightly downwards. She felt his skin pucker and break at her touch - rejoicing slightly in the mark she knew she was leaving him with.

"Emma," he warned, his voice rumbled against he mouth.

"What?" she asked, feigning innocence. His face was so close again, resting against her, nudging her face slightly as he settled more firmly between her legs - shuffling his hips until he was pressed against her and her ankles locked together around his waist.

She could feel his cock against her thigh. He rolled his hips slightly, growling when his head met her dampness; slowly rocking against her clit as he looked into her eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, the question implied by the burning look in his eyes.

"Yes," she echoed with a small nod - sucking back a cry as he pushed into her in one smooth motion, pressing up into her core until she thought she might crack from the sensation.

They both sucked in deep breaths. She pivoted her hips from side to side, her body adjusting to his size and whimpering at the sensation after so long without.

She pressed her hand to his cheek as he began to rock into her, her head slipping down the back of the tub, hair fanning out in the water as she gazed up at him. The water covered her ears and distorted her hearing - alternating a glugging, bubbling sound with the slap and slide of their bodies, punctuated with guttural moans from the back of his throat.

"So good," she muttered, feeling lightheaded as he kept up a steady, teasing pace.

"You feel like heaven," he whispered before reaching down into her kiss.

The assault of sensation quickly lifted her into a heightened state of awareness that magnified every touch, every movement. She could feel every twist of his hips, every change of angle, every motion of every finger as his hand raked up and down her body - eagerly, hungrily owning her.

His thrusts grew rapid. Reaching up to meet his hips, the water in the tub began to sway, tipping over the edges and splashing onto the tiled floor; washing over her face when he pressed into her.

"I've wanted this for so long," she told him, "Please…"

Then he dragged up and out of the water, falling back on his knees and pulling her to his waist. Emma wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, rocking against his thrusts, her last restraint peeling away in seconds.

"Come for me darling, give yourself to me…"

His old fashioned, yet charming, way of speaking had often annoyed her - got under her skin. But tonight it was just the thing to push her into oblivion - that rumbling voice and those soft words spoken with such sincerity that the spark inside her exploded and brought her crashing down around him.

"Emma, Emma, Emma…" he muttered, following seconds later with his own deconstruction.

* * *

Two hours later she was clean, dry and just a little sore and aching. Behind her lay the warm body of a man who she knew cared for her - maybe even loved her. His hand grasped her stomach, holding her close and tight even in the depths of sleep.

Her mind wandered to her dreams of him. This was not what she imagined, but at the same time this was so much more. Fighting it now seemed so ridiculous, she wanted to laugh.

She felt safe, wanted, needed even. Even in her drowsiness the emotions seemed to seep from her pores and coat her in a layer of happiness that was unfamiliar yet unnervingly satisfying.

Relaxing into his muscular frame, she let herself dream of what was to come - what secrets and skills Killian Jones had yet to share with her.

Both in - and out - of the bedroom.

Or bathroom.

Or car.

Or - well, you get the idea.

But most of all, what the future would hold now she had finally let him into her heart.

**A review would make all the effort of writing this worthwhile :)**


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